I’m not afraid of those curled-brown leaves—
hanging in bunches from deciduous trees—
nor strong gusts of the season’s first cold wind
that will send the last leaves flying into darkness.

I do not avoid spots where leaves now decay
in the rain on city sidewalks and ominous shadows—
who are the virtual ghosts of their green-spring existence—
fall, when the moon’s orange light spares a Halloween beam.